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Plagueshifter
Plagueshifter is the tale of Peryn Crowson's quest to secure a remedy for the husk-plague afflicting the people of Dun Vor. It was roleplayed via Discord on November 14, 2017, during the Fall of Dun Vor. Plagueshifter Ashenvale is a forbidding place. Its forests are deep, and often untouched by civilization as we know it; over all, the thin shroud of high cloud cover is spread across its skies, making it a perpetual twilight. But it is unlike the pall of Duskwood, which looms threateningly over an ever-endangered population. These clouds seem to exist to conceal the night elves, a blessing rather than a curse. The main highway through the forest, thankfully, is marked well enough, and passes through Astranaar to Forest Song, a refuge on the east side of the region. And that is where Peryn Crowson is bound. Peryn's mule trots along the road, huffing nervously. It is enough to carry the man and his cargo, but little more; the elves prefer their nightsabers, and this beast was the best he could acquire on short notice. For the sixth time in an hour, it stops, snorting in protest, stubborn as its Gilnean masters. Peryn wearily gives the mule another kick, and glances back to his cargo. Behind him is the crate containing the husk sample. Tied to the mule's back, is looks plain and unassuming, masking its dire contents. As Peryn continues down the road, rocking in time with the mule's steps, he murmurs to himself. "Kayneth Stillwind, the Plagueshifter. Ashenvale...Astranaar." He looks around, as if expecting a signpost or guide to appear. "...Almost be glad to meet an orc." With a deep breath, he leans back in the saddle and continues on. Something suddenly bursts from the brush to Peryn's left! A nightsaber rushes forward, its great paws noiseless but its voice raised in a fearsome roar! The mule, all its fears validated, panics. Peryn grabs the reins tightly and draws his axe! As he jumps to the ground, he allows himself a small grin. "Hell, it's about time." Just as suddenly, a feminine voice calls out sharply: "Stripey! NO!" The nightsaber skids to a halt, and a dryad comes bounding out of the trees. "How many times do I have to tell you? It's okay to scare me like that, but not perfect strangers!" Peryn blinks, then blinks again for good measure. He lowers his axe. "Is this, er 'Stripey' yours...ma'am?" The dryad puts her arms around the neck of the now-docile nightsaber. "We're friends, yes. I'm really, really sorry for the scare, Mister." Peryn gives up trying to make sense of the situation, and shrugs. "I've had worse." He sets about trying to calm the mule, shaking his head. After a moment, he turns. "Actually, er, miss, perhaps you can make it up to me. I'm trying to find someone, and not having very much luck." The dryad tilts her head, and her leaf-woven hair rustles slightly. "Who?" "Kayneth Stillwind, a Plagueshifter...That's about all I know. Heard I'd find him at Forest Song, but I have no bloody idea where that is." "Oh! That's right here." She turns and points back along a hard-to-see trail that meanders back into the woods. "I'm Illiyana." Peryn squints. "Bloody...well, I'm glad to meet you. Peryn." "Hi, Peryn! And this is Stripey--but you knew that." She lifts one of the cat's massive paws and waves it. "Hiiii." "..... Nice to meet you, cat." Peryn declines to wave back. After a few moments trying to find an appropriate follow-up, Peryn clears his throat and leads the rather-hesitant mule around the nightsaber, heading for Forest Song along the moonlit trail. Illiyana falls in behind, her delicate hooves seeming to pick along the mossy turf, rather than stepping. Stripey watches her go, then slinks off into the underbrush again. "You're a human, right? Are you from Gilneas?" "Gilneas? Thank the Light, no. Stormwind. I'm just here on business." Peryn takes a drink from his waterskin and looks back, somehow surprised yet again that his companion is still half a deer. "I uh, don't imagine you've been to Stormwind." "Nope! The forest is where all my friends live. And there's always something to do here." As they make their way along the path, the trees seem to part, revealing the moss-covered ruins of an ancient kaldorei city. Leafy vines trail from the weathered stones, swaying lightly in the breeze. Though this place is ruined, you see new construction. The draenei were here. A great lavender crystal glows quietly in a power generator, feeding the half-dozen elegant shelters around it. The place is most certainly lived in; night elves and draenei move about, purposeful, sure of themselves, and well armed. You notice, as you pass it, a pile of satyr bodies being prepared for disposal. Peryn scans the budding town. "I can see that. This looks new... are you preparing for battle?" His gaze lingers on the satyr, but he looks out to the shadowed trees. Unconsciously, he reaches for his axe, but corrects the motion and adjusts his pauldron instead. "Here we are!" Illiyana says, stopping in front of a ruined house. Within, you can see a kaldorei man moving about, busy with work. "Kayyyyneth, you have a visitor!" "That would be me." Peryn ties the mule to a spur of broken stone and approaches the elf. "Peryn Crowson. I've been sent by Lord Auromere and Thane Steelbeard. I hear you're the man to see about plagues?" Kayneth Stillwind nods. "That is my calling, yes." He ponders. "Lord Oromir, is this a draenei?" Peryn takes a moment to register. "... That would be Auromere. A...er...U...he's a human. Of Stormwind. I've traveled a long way, so I hope you can help me." Kayneth seems to be processing this for a moment. "Huma--Short fellow, glasses, never smiles? Yes, yes, I remember him now. What can I do for you, then?" "We've come across some undead. Mostly standard, but we've reason to think there's more going on. If you could take a look?" Peryn indicates the crate strung across the mule's back. Kayneth frowns. "Scourge?" Peryn shakes his head, tapping the crate thoughtfully. "We're not sure. We found this in Dwarven lands, so it seems unlikely, but...well, who knows these days. Something's off about it, though." "Did Auromere and the thane send any further information?" "Little enough. These things have been attacking the local dwarves. If we had much more to work with, I'd be relaxing by a fire right now with a mug of ale." Peryn begins to unbind the crate, then stops. "Actually, there was a letter... let me see." He fishes around his belongings, and withdraws it. "No doubt it's beyond me, but maybe you can make something of it." Peryn offers Kayneth the letter. Kayneth opens the letter and reads it. After some time--and some fairly incomprehensible commentary--he asks: "May I see the sample now?" "Of course." Peryn unslings the crate, setting it down and cracking the top. "Careful." Kayneth examines the husk pieces, and begins a curious incantation. Runes seem to light up under his skin, green runes that seem oddly like things you have seen in nature. When they dim, Kayneth falls backward, gasping in what seems agony. "Oh, this is vile," he chokes. Peryn frowns, moving to help him. "What is it?" Kayneth, shivering mightily, retreats into a corner of the ruin, curling up. "A...moment..." he grates. Peryn eyes the shaken elf warily, and approaches the crate slowly. "Take a moment, but no more. If this is half as dangerous as you seem to think, then we can't waste time." Kayneth closes his eyes, and slowly but surely, the runes begin to glow again. Peryn watches, his hand on his knife, as if expecting the husk to reanimate once more. Minutes tick by, but soon enough, Kayneth seems to improve. "Ugh," he mutters. "It takes as long as it takes, sir knight." Peryn doesn't press the druid further, but paces impatiently, keeping an eye on the crate and the weakened elf. Finally, Kayneth gets up and walks to one of the tumbled down walls, and leans out into the brush to throw up. He straightens, dabbing at his mouth with a scrap of cloth. "It's a necromantic disease, but fortunately not so potent as the Scourge. It can be cured, and even prevented." Peryn nods. "How?" "A purification potion. Sorrowmoss and icecap blooms--Here, I'll write it down for you. The nature of this affliction is both disease and poison, so something that works against both heads simultaneously is necessary. An alchemist of sufficient skill should be able to produce it." "An alchemist... I'll be sure to find one, then. Where can I get the ingredients?" "Icecap can be found in any snowy place. Fortunate that we're on the cusp of winter, no? Sorrowmoss is a little more scarce, but fairly common." "Shouldn't be too hard to get then, good." Peryn takes the list, tucking it safely into his belt. "Is there anything else I should know?" "Those with immunity to undeath should be safe. Paladins, worgen, those sort. Oh, and burn the husks. Nothing good comes of leaving them lying about." "On that, we agree. And you? Will you be alright?" "Yes, Elune has blessed me with this gift--which sometimes feels like a mixed blessing, but...I serve." "We all do." A pale flame leaps to Peryn's hand, and he directs it at the husk, burning away the sample. "I'd stay and chat, but if what you've said is true, there's no time to waste. My thanks." Peryn unties the mule, and heaves himself up. The beast, which had just begun to enjoy losing its cargo, grunts in protest. Category:Tales